


Friday Night Dance-Off At Johnny's All-American Diner

by vtn



Category: Canadian Music RPF, Matthew Good Band, Our Lady Peace
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Crack, Fourth Wall, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-04
Updated: 2007-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-17 16:26:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtn/pseuds/vtn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 1958. Raine Maida is confident he'll win the Dance-Off at Johnny's Diner, but little does he know there's another young spitfire with the proverbial 'skills to pay the bills'. Wait, that's the Beastie Boys. Either way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friday Night Dance-Off At Johnny's All-American Diner

**Author's Note:**

> Mikey prompted me with "Raine doing the hand jive" which snowballed into "1950's Raine/Matt", and well, _this_ happened.

"Screw me— _this_ is the competition?" Raine wrinkled his nose, looking out over on the gathered throng at Johnny's. _Hehe_ , Raine thought very privately to himself. _Throng_.

"I still won't," Chantal said, smiling adoringly and patting down her bangs. "But I've got to agree, they're a kind of an odd bunch." She perched herself on the stool and spun it back and forth a little. "How long do we have to wait?"

"Everything really gets moving at about five. So." Raine glanced up at the clock above the counter. "Half an hour." He turned to the restaurant's owner and gave him a wink along with one of those 'shooting finger' motions. "Johnny, I'm gonna have a malt. No ice."

"A Coke for me," Chantal said, sticking her tongue out at Raine. "The moment you stop trying to be so darn _cool_ is the moment I'll actually agree to— _mmf_." The little noise at the end of Chantal's sentence was caused by Raine pressing his lips to hers. The kiss concluded with a _pop_ as they disconnected and a _swish_ as the drinks slid down the counter to meet them. Crisis: averted.

Raine was sipping away at his milkshake when he noticed a rush of cool air. Upon some experimental sniffing, he figured it out without even looking to his right— _eau de absence of Chantal_. He already missed her a little bit, even.

But then a clink and he saw Chantal was over by the jukebox, punching the buttons. _Oh boy, is this going to be—yes! Yes it is!_ And the faint strains of Elvis began to filter in through the jukebox speakers.

It was just—there was this whole thing that happened to Raine's body when he heard music like that. It was in his fingers; it was in his toes and disturbingly it was even a little bit in his stomach. Or maybe that was just the malt.

But either way, he sprung up from the stool and struck a pose in the center of the room, hands on hips. And then he started swerving a little, and moving a little, and yes—singing a little, because he was Raine and this is what he _did_.

"I'm in love—I'm _all shook up_!" Raine heard Chantal squeal with delight and he closed his eyes, savoring the moment, before shaking his hips once more. This time with _gusto_.

"Raine, stop it!" Chantal protested. He turned to see her stifling a giggle. "You're making me blush." She straightened out her sweater. "I should never go out with you." She was shaking her head, but there was just enough of a smile to convince Raine she didn't mean it. Just like every other time.

The bells on the door rang just as 'All Shook Up' was fading, and the last of the contestants slunk in, a boy with messy hair and a school letter jacket.

"Looks like we're just about ready!" said Johnny. "All's aboard that's coming aboard. Everybody clear the floor!" Raine, Chantal, and the other kids dutifully moved tables, five cute waitresses at their feet gathering up bubble gum wrappers, dropped fries, and baseball cards.

("Hey, that's a rookie card!" someone shouted. "I call it," someone else followed up, and about five people dived for it. It ended up being plucked from someone's greasy fingers by the letter jacket boy. If Raine had cared about sports as much as he did rock and roll, he might have been dismayed. Well, that and he didn't have much time for dismay, and dismay wasn't very pretty. Er, manly. Thing.)

"It's time for another one from the King himself," said Johnny, rolling up his sleeves and running a hand over his head to slick back his hair. Well, except for Johnny was nearly bald, so it wasn't really successful. "And then we'll get you kids up here in pairs. Whoever has the best moves will go on to the next match, so by the end one of you will be the victor and as an added bonus, none of you will ever want to hear 'Jail House Rock' again."

"You know, I can't think of anything that says more 'I'm an American'," Raine said, grinning and opening the zipper on his leather jacket. _I look ridiculously good in leather_ , he added mentally. "Than Johnny's Diner, a dance-off, and good ol' Elvis Presley." _Really, really ridiculously good. I mean, just look at my abs. I mean, you are looking at my abs, since you're me, and I'm looking at my abs. But still. Abs._

"Isn't that kind of ironic, though?" Chantal asked, batting her eyelashes innocently. "Since we're both alternate reality versions of _Canadian_ musicians?" There was a loud crack. "What was that?" Her head whipped around.

"Fourth wall," said Johnny. "And be _careful_ , it cost me a fortune to get it installed!"

"Oh, sorry," said Chantal, and she returned to her Coke.

The first beat of 'Jail House Rock' sounded, and a dancing montage ensued. Disregarding an almost-mishap when the applause for Raine was almost equal to the applause for letter jacket boy and his girlfriend, the competition wound down until only a very sweaty Raine remained. Raine grinned, swept back his hair, and stepped up to the counter, leaning on his elbow, to receive his prize.

"All right, last match!" said Johnny, who was looking a little sweaty, himself. "Raine Maida versus Matthew F.R. Good!"

"Matthew who in the what now?" Raine said, in a remarkably nineties turn of phrase.

" _Ahem_. That would be me." There was this skinny kid at the counter next to him. Raine hadn't even noticed him. It was kind of weird, when he thought about it. Then again, this Matthew F.R. Good kid was pretty weird too. He had big dweeby glasses with thick black rims and too-long hair and—yikes, even a pocket protector. This kid was _authentic_.

" _You're_ the second best at the boogie? The next to top at the twist? The—"

"I'm going to ask you to stop before I throw something at you," Matthew F.R. Good cut him off. "And because I suppose I have to: hello, Raine, my name is Matt." Raine took Matt's hand in his own and shook it firmly. Matt's hands were too big for a kid that skinny. It was just _wrong_ , in the order of the world.

"All right, kids, stop dallying. We're going to put on 'Jail House Rock' for you _one last time_ , and then you're all going home." Johnny nodded. "Yes. All going home. _Or else_ ," he added under his breath.

"Hit it!" Chantal squealed, diverting a potentially awkward situation, and just on cue the music started.

"Hey Raine," said Matt casually, "Are you any good at the hand jive?"

 _Any good at the hand jive? ANY GOOD AT THE HAND JIVE?_ Why, Raine had practically _invented_ it. As a kid he couldn't stop moving, flailing his hands this way and that. So as you can imagine, he was a natural at the hand jive once the trend came around. And he was gonna show that Matt Good. Show him _good_. _Hahaha, good. I just can't believe how clever I am sometimes_ , Raine thought.

He hopped up on the dance floor and began.

He slapped his thighs twice. He clapped his hands twice. Left over right, twice. Right over left, twice. Left fist over right, twice. Right fist over left, twice. Right thumb over his shoulder, twice. Left thumb over his shoulder, twice.

"How's _that_ for a hand jive?" Raine asked, scoffing and wiping his hands on his jeans.

"Eh, it was okay," Matt mumbled, and then proceeded as such:

He slapped his thighs twice. He clapped his hands twice. Left over right, twice. Right over left, twice. Left fist over right, twice. Right fist over left, twice. Right thumb over his shoulder, twice. Left thumb over his shoulder, twice.

Except for the part where he did it twice as fast as Raine did.

"I hate you," Raine breathed.

"I hate you more," said Matt, seething.

It was time to bring out the big guns.

He went through the hand jive again, but this time he shook his hips too. Wiggled his shoulders. Tossed his head.

Matt matched his every move, and with gusto. It was really strange, Raine thought. This little nerd, with his big glasses and his funny hair. Making a killing on the dance floor. Clapping and slapping like the stupid little dork he was, with the stupid pocket protector and the stupid button-down shirt. And the stupid sharp jawline, and the stupid sweaty way his stupid hair was clinging to his face and getting in his eyes, and the stupid way his stupid tight pants were clinging to his stupid _gorgeous_ hipbones.

Oh but those really were the best hipbones Raine had ever seen.

"Boys, the song's over, time to judge," said Johnny, leaning back on the counter. " _Please God get me out of here before I kill myself_ ," he muttered in addition.

"We need a distraction," Matt said quickly.

"Yes, I agree," said Raine. "Look! Over there!" He pointed out the window. "It's—it's the atom bomb!"

" _DUCK AND COVER_!" Matt shouted and tore off for the bathroom, grasping Raine's hand tight in his.

Raine shoved Matt against the wall and kissed him, _hard_. Three times. He ran his hands over _those hipbones_ , and shivered as Matt's cold fingers ran up his shirt and tweaked one of his nipples. Raine kissed Matt again, and even added a little tongue.

"Nerd," Raine snarled.

"Jock," Matt spat back.

"I want you _now_."

" _Yes_. _Please_."

Raine grasped Matt's pants zipper and tugged it down. Matt's hands snaked down between them to return the favor. Then he stopped.

"Wait," Matt said, knotting his brow. "This is 1958. The Stonewall Riots haven't even happened yet. Surely one of us must be noticing this is a little too controversial for this time period?"

There was a loud crack, followed by a shout of "EXPENSIVE GLASS!" from the dining area.

"Shut up and get back to business," Raine snapped and pulled Matt back to him for a kiss.

The bathroom windows were starting to steam up. Raine put his hands on Matt's waist.

"This is the part where we wink and it zooms out, isn't it?" he inquired of no one in particular.

Back in the dining area, Johnny climbed out from under a table, called off the whole competition and, veins popping out of his head, declared that everyone had better go home or he'd put cyanide in the milkshake machine.

Matt winked.


End file.
